A World in a Wardrobe
by You'llHaveToGuessIt
Summary: In his world it couldn't be done, but in others the dead could rise again. A brief one-shot in which Rumple visits the White Witch. Set after Skin Deep and before Aslan's 'death'. They have a deal to discuss.


It was too bad this wardrobe could only take you to one location, one world. It was rumored that a certain spot in that expansive forest could take you to the land without magic, but he knew for a fact it was at the wrong point in time. His Bae wouldn't be there. He sighed in frustration. He had obtained this wardrobe in a deal a good few decades ago, but centuries had passed for its inhabitants. And now he was being summoned by the witch on the other side; his legend was feared even in this world. He shook his head and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. He moved the embroidered cloak out of his way (a green and gold one) and waited for the magic to take effect. Then he began his journey across the wood and into the snow, passing first an odd metal lantern. On his first visit to this new long he had changed the metal from iron, to gold.

He could have been at his destination in a matter of seconds, but he decided to walk. This knee-deep snow was oddly comforting, and gave him a lot of time to reflect. It wasn't like time would pass by in his world anyway. He passed a dwarf (the _really_ short kind) but it soon scurried off. He was as infamous as the ruling monarch.

Even at his fast pace the journey took just short of a day, since he had to go from Cair Paravel to the Witch's palace. The former was a sprawling, if frost-bitten, expanse of stone and sunlight, the first sprinkles of spring most evident here. The latter was an oddly hideous hunk of ice that would have been imposing if he didn't live in a castle darker. Deciding not to climb the jagged rocks that surrounded the Witch's lair he transported himself to just outside the main entrance, bowing to a majestic stone centaur when he arrived. He could have gone straight to her throne, but he had a flair for the dramatic. Hurling some mangy wolf out of the way with a flick of his wrist he flung open the doors, giggling manically as he practically frolicked down the icy hallways.

Not five minutes later he barged into the throne room where an irate queen paced before her fancy chair. Spotting him (not that she could miss him, he'd just destroyed her doors) she lunged forwards and began to yell, her cold breath on his neck and her spittle catching him in the face. He waited until she was done (she was as temperamental as Regina, these evil queen types were all the same) and then when he politely said "Are you finished?" the woman, as expected, slapped him full across the face. "I summoned you _yesterday_, what took you so long?!" Ahh, he was going to have fun with this. He couldn't mock Regina since he needed her for his plan, but this woman was similar, so perhaps it would be just as good? "Well you see dearie it was just such a lovely day outside I had to make the most of it. Fresh spring sunshine and the like." He smiled amiably and smirked on the inside at the impressive vein that throbbed on her forehead. But there was clearly something the witch wanted so she forcibly calmed herself and returned to her throne, taking calming breaths through her nostrils. He sighed inwardly in disappointment and waited for her to address her deal.

"Okay" another deep breath "I obviously called you here for a reason." Breathing again. He raised his eyebrow in askance. Breathe. "A group of very destructive..." A deep breath_ and _an irritated nose twitch "...children... have begun dismantling my schemes and the curse I cast over these lands many years ago." He waited as she practically hyperventilated on her throne. He rolled his eyes when she didn't continue. "And what do you want me to do about it dearie?" Her face took on a ghastly blue pallor and the temperature dropped further. "I want you to kill them!" she roared, her cry echoing off the icy walls. Within seconds he was upon her, a step before her throne, claws digging into her throat. "I don't kill children, dearie. Try a different deal."

In the blink of an eye he was back where he had started, a respectable distance from the throne, but the queen looked at him with a new fear in her eyes. Silence filled the grand hall for a moment as she considered a new deal. Her face lit up as she decided upon something. She looked him in the eye again and said "I want you to make it winter forever, no matter what happens or who arrives." She was leaning forwards in her throne, a deadly gleam in her eyes as the staff she held grew closer to tipping, and her ridiculous ponytail slipped over her shoulder. He gave a slight nod of his head as he considered it. Yes, that was well within his magic. He could summon an eternal frost, or at least one that lasted as long as the witch did, and since this wasn't _his_ world he wouldn't have to deal with the consequences. "I can do that dearie; for a price." He gave his signature smirk and the witch leaned back, satisfied.

She spread her arms wide. "Whatever do you wish for, lizard?

An open invitation to anything from Cair Paravel to Aslan's Kingdom; he need only ask and it could be his. But he already knew what he wanted. That was why he had come. With that he could amend his greatest mistake, not including the loss of his son, with a slight alteration of its magic. Simple enough for one of his power. "I want the stone table then, dearie." Yes, it wouldn't be too difficult to do. In fact, he'd already planned it all out... "Why would you want that? Its only use is for the sacrifice of traitors." Now _he_ was the one taking deep, calming breaths. "It's the only thing in all the lands that can bring somebody back from dead, dearie." "Only if they're innocent of the crime they were accused of." But she had been innocent, hadn't she? But he'd accused her, and her father had condemned her, his clerics giving judgement and she herself choosing the method of execution. But with this, she would be his again... "No. You couldn't have had it even if I _didn't_ have plans for it. I'll be gutting a cat on it soon. It's too valuable too give away; I might want to use it again."

He seethed. This pathetic woman was ruining his plans because she _might_ want to use it again? He_ needed_ to use it, now! "It's that or no deal." The last time he'd said those words he had come away with so much more than he bargained for. But still she said no. He could have, should have, killed her right there and then, but then he wouldn't have the satisfaction of knowing that she had lost to her arch nemeses, who were a group of children and an overgrown cat. He growled at her and stalked out of her lair, killing three members of her 'secret police' to vent his frustrations. There was nothing he could do now. That had been his last brilliant plan, his last chance to save his love, his light. And he couldn't just steal the table, it was protected by an old magic and had to be given willingly. He stepped of the cliff and disappeared, re-materializing by the solid gold lamppost. He rested his forehead against the cool metal for a while, forcing his anger to leave him. It didn't work. He had failed her again. He turned in the right direction and began to walk.

Barely five minutes later and his feet struck wood. He fell to his knees within the confines of his wardrobe, tears already falling into the snow. He had cleared this wardrobe as soon as he got it because on his darker days, he enjoyed watching this world age a thousand years as his tea gently cooled in the rooms beyond. Only the embroidered cloak was here now, and he never visited anymore. He had given that worn piece of cloth something he had never given his Belle. The opportunity to see the world, any world, change before her eyes. She would have loved this wardrobe.

Why had he never shown it to her, when he had the chance?


End file.
